Dear Jasper-
by Miss Blum
Summary: The journal of Bella Swan and nothing more. ( JxB ) Rated M for language and future adult situations.
1. Day 1

**2004**

* * *

**September 7th, Tuesday**

* * *

**6:09am My Room**

Fucking Sophomore Year. 

**6:41am Kitchen Table**

Charlie says he has a surprise for me, Nbook. I'm terrified. 

**8:08am FHS Parking Lot**

Two years of begging have finally paid off! I love Charlie! I love motorcycles! Especially this one! Faded black and worn to the bone and MINE! Love, love, love! 

**8:22am Math**

So my schedule for the trimester isn't as bad as I thought it'd be:

8:15 – 9:07 Math (Lewis)

9:12 – 9:57 Advisory (Bennett)

10:02 – 10:54 English (Velasquez)

10:59 – 11:51 Art (Bennett)

11:56 – 12:48 Spanish (Sanchez)

12_48 – 1:18 Lunch

1:23 – 2:15 History (Giles)

2:20 – 3:15 AP Biology (Hunter) 

**9:08am The Center of the South Side Hallway, Between RM 310 and RM 312**

Tradition calls. 

**9:17am Advisory**

It was just about this time, 735 days ago, that I realized I'd fallen in love.

… And _no_, he didn't notice me. Why should he? 

**12:55pm Cafeteria**

I like fruit.

I also like sitting by myself.

At least, this is what I tell myself day in and out. But now, with Leah Clearwater shooting me this hesitant, desperate look from across the room I have to reexamine these statements. She has a tray full of food in her arms and there's nowhere left to sit- well, there _is_, just nowhere she'd be welcome. Her eyes dart between the three empty chairs at my table once more.

Sigh.

You'd think after_ two years_ of this shit she'd know she needed to be here early to claim a table. Everyone knew this and had their respective spots to flock to: the jocks, the preps, the popular kids, the goths, the nerds and … The Cullens. Well, I guess they didn't count. No one dared to fuck with their table, first day of school or not. Even the _new_ kids knew better. Must be that ingrained sense of self-preservation that I wasn't lucky enough to be born with.

I'd named my table 'The Ostracized', a place for the people that weren't even allowed a social grouping. A safe-haven for the dregs of High School. I suppose Leah _would_ qualify for a spot at my table … but we've always kept to ourselves; it would be _weird_ now. Ugh. Maybe she'll disappear if I draw my hoodie down lower to avoid her pleading gaze.

Truth is, I don't like _fruit_.

I like _oranges_.

I don't like sitting by myself, but there's only one person in this hellhole that I'd want to sit with me.

And he never will.

And there's no oranges today.

And I hate life again. 

**1:20pm Walking to Stupid Hi****story**

I also hate history. I shall sit in the back. 

**1:30pm Glorious History**

I LOVE HISTORY! 

**2:17pm AP Biology**

Sorry, I couldn't think with him that close. And by close I mean RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! That's right Nbook, there _must_ be some kind of God up there that's decided to take mercy upon me. The best part? We have assigned seating now! For the whole year!

I was so happy I'd just about _cried_! But then he'd turned in his seat and gave me this … _strange_ look with those gorgeous golden eyes. …

I'd quickly looked down to my desk, terrified that he'd seen the truth on my face, terrified of my jack-hammering heart. I willed my pulse to slow (I get better at that every day)and for the rest of class I'd made sure to focus on _nothing else_ besides the top of my desk. Seriously- I can still see the wood grain pattern when I close my eyes.

You know, that look on his too-perfect face, it was almost like he was … like he was _surprised_, or _confused_, like I'd _said _something.

…

But we all know how _impossible_ that would be.

..?! Awww … _**DAMNIT-**_

**2:46pm AP Biology**

_No, _**Edward Cullen**, not even being stuck with _you_ as my lab partner for an _entire year_ can bring me down today! So go ahead and glare all you want! You don't phase me. Sure, if this was two years ago I'd be pissing myself at those concentrated death glares. And,_ no_, I haven't the_ slightest_ doubt that you can melt steel with those angry, black stares of yours. You don't have to prove it. I believe you.

So _seriously_, Edward, just for_ today:_

_Go fuck yourself._

**7:49pm My Room**

Good thing about first days: there's usually no homework. Got home, made Charlie dinner and told him about my day. You know what I love about Charlie? I never have to BS with him. When he asks me (without the slightest hesitancy), "Make any friends?" and I tell him _no,_ I don't feel like a failure.

He shrugs, nods and shoves more food in.

I love my dad.


	2. Day 2

**September 8th, Wednesday**

* * *

**6:03am My Room**

Good Morning, oh glorious world!

**8:02am Parking Lot**

I've decided to name my bike 'RAWR!' cause that's all I want to scream whilst flying down the highway. (Within the speed limit, of course. My father_ is_ the Chief of Police, and I already have a death wish big enough to last me_ several_ lifetimes, thank you very much.)

**10:11am English**

Alice Cullen just walked in. Fashionably late. And I mean_ fashionably_: all _Manolo's_ and _ballerina grace. _Makes me wish I could go a whole week without tripping over thin air.

She gets away with skipping yesterday by batting her glittering golds at Mr. Velasquez, who then points at the only vacant seat: the one behind me.

FML.

**11:19am Art**

I can't stop shivering. I swear her eyes are still on me.

**12:57pm Cafeteria**

No signs of Leah today. Must have taken refuge in an empty classroom, and might I just say, thumbs up for her _bitchin' _danger sense. I kinda wish I had some too, because apparently Loosey Lauren in on the rampage and I missed the memo. In fact, I just caught my name leaving her nasty (Satan-only-knows-what's-been-in-it) mouth.

Looking would be the stupidest thing I could do. Really, my only safe option is to watch in my peripheral as her hands wildly enunciate her too-loud, too-sharp words. Oh, goodie. She's being a kind soul, and explaining to the newest 'popular kid' initiates that I'm deaf, and therefore too stupid to speak, and my face is horribly disfigured, which is why I'm always looking down and hiding under my hoodies. All in all: I shouldn't be bothered with. I'm actually disappointed that she didn't hype it up more, opting to go with the most common bullshit assumptions everyone makes. Ah, well.

The new kids soon realize that to speak to me, willingly stand next to me for more than five minutes, or even_ breathe the same air as me_ will result in immediate and irreversible exile from the Cool-Kids Club.

Needless to say, these kids will be sure to avoid me like the bubonic plague. Awesome.

**1:13pm Hallway**

I found Leah. She's outside, sitting on top of a picnic table. In the rain. I feel better seeing her crying… only because I'd wanted to and couldn't.

**1:44pm History**

I'm trying to be happy, trying to enjoy being so close to him. But it's ruined, and I kinda want to go punch Leah in the face.

Or whoever made her cry. I wonder who it was?

Was it Lauren?

Or Jessica? Maybe it was Mike.

They're definitely at the top of my suspect list, but there's so many heartless fuckers in this school, it could be _anyone_. I should just start _smashing skulls_ until I get the right one. And every single one of them would fucking_ deserve it_ for _some reason_ or another! DAMNIT!

… Or I could just ask Leah.

Maybe I should just let it go. I mean, I feel a_ little _better now. A lot better, actually.

Sigh.

Ha. I guess writing really _can_ help you vent. Yay for _positive, non-destructive_ outlets.

Hey, Jessica? My 'gay-ass diary' just saved your worthless life.

…

He smells good.

**3:01pm AP Biology**

Edward Cullen is a douche with awesome hair. I bet he doesn't even have to_ touch_ it- he just rolls out of his coffin looking that cool everyday.

Douche.

**5:11pm Piper's Books**

How can my work be a less than five minute drive from my school and yet I _still_ manage to be late? Very carefully. Good thing Piper is a sweetie and I have two years worth of brownie points with her. I humor her by leading her outside to frown at my 'new' bike, and I swear I can see her brain start working double-time to recall every horrific car-crash she's ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Or maybe imagining one of her four elementary school-age kids zipping around on it.

She makes me promise, like, a _bajillion_ times not to speed and to always wear a helmet before she takes off, leaving me alone to close up shop. What a sweetheart. Now … how to kill the next four hours? Why, _homework_ of course.


	3. Day 3

**September 9****th****, Thursday**

* * *

**6:30am Kitchen Table**

News said it's going to be sunny this morning. I wish I could get away with skipping, too.

**11:16am Art**

It's raining! Yay!

**1:07am Cafeteria**

He came, but he doesn't look too happy about it. The permanent pained look he's always sporting is more intense than usual. Alice, however, is his polar opposite; all smiles and sunshine. I'm trying to be grateful that he's here and not wonder _why_ the two of them decided to show up mid-day. What was _the point?_

Oh, _fuckballs_.

Leah Clearwater is staring at me from the wall she's leaning against, nothing but a bottled water in her hands. I quickly avert my eyes but it's too late- I can hear her footsteps drawing closer. Did she just set her bag down on my table?! Big, dark brown eyes have popped into my view and now she's leaning down to catch my eyes.

Her golden-brown hands quickly sweep through the air, _Can I sit here?_

Two years.

I've been attending this fucking school for TWO YEARS.

And _Leah Clearwater_ is the first student to talk to me. (Well. _Decently_, anyway.)

Leah has apparently taken my lack of response as, 'Sure! Why not?! You're more 'n welcome at the freaks table!' because she's gone and plopped herself down in the chair to my right. I'm watching her as if she's grown three heads, but she's ignoring me, breaking the seal on her bottled water.

She takes a drink, sets it down. Recaps it. She's inhaling, deeply, holding it and now looking at me again-

_You saw me yesterday, _Her fluent hands say, as if this _thoroughly_ explained _why_ she's still sitting at my table.

I decided to play ignorant, fixing her with a blank stare before I forced my eyes away from her graceful, sweeping hands. Of course, my gaze automatically lands on _him_ and I freeze … _he's __**watching**__ me. _

Watch your heartbeat. Force the calm. God, I can feel the blood in my veins chilling. _Force it, Bella, you have to. _

I've let my gaze casually drop to the oh-so-familiar linoleum but I don't feel any better-

He's _looking_ at me.

My stomach hurts. Really bad. I can't breathe. And writing isn't helping. It's not helping. Leah is trying to tell me something, but I can't see. I've gotta get out of here. Go._ Go._ NOW.

**1:18pm Girl's Bathroom**

Chex Mix and bile. If my pathetic life was a flavor, that would probably be it.

**1:44pm History**

Hmm. I love breathing him in, holding my breath … trapping his scent inside me. It makes me feel tingly and dizzy and warm and _electric_. Hmm. He smells like … hmm. It's so many things. Odd, deliciously_ unique_ things …

The chill of fresh snow. Sun-warmed Georgia peaches. Timothy hay wrapped in buckskin. Lightning storms and that warm, salty-sweet rust of freshly spilled blood.

It's the most alluring and pleasing scent in all the world. Hmm. Everything's okay now … in fact, I think I wore myself out because I almost feel _sleepy_.

God … I was so nervous when I'd felt his desk shift the slightest as he sat, so afraid that he might speak, might look at me, might_ notice_ me in some way. But the nervous terror quickly faded into worry as Mr. Giles started taking attendance. What had I worried about again...?

Hmm.

I'm not quite sure...? Maybe that something would've changed for the worse? I'd rather he not know I exist at all, than know I did and hate me for it.

Have I mentioned how much I want to run my fingers through his hair? I swear, his hair must have eighty different shades of gold. Mesmerizing. I wish I could see it in the sun, see how much it would glow and shine. Or even wet, and see how dark it would be, maybe dark sienna with earthy tans and dirty marigolds …

Hm, beautiful and perfect and … surprisingly soft, but heavier then I thought it'd be. Hm.

Hmm.

**4:18pm FHS Library**

… Was I high?

**6:37pm Piper's Books**

No, seriously, was I_ high?_

**9:57pm Bogachiel State Park**

I must have been high.

**11:21pm My Room**

I was high! I had to have been! There's no other explanation for what I did. It was something I ate. Something in the water. In the air. It was his fucking _smell!_

That's right. It's _his_ fault!

… I doubt my reasoning will appease his wrath.


	4. Day 4

**September 10****th****, Friday**

* * *

**7:32am My Room**

I wish it was sunny.

**8:24am My Room**

I'm sick. I swear.

**1:45pm My Room**

SICK IN THE HEAD!

…Alice is going to_ murder me slowly_ with her Fun-Sized Fists of Dooooom.

**3:59pm My Room**

I need a ride before work. In the rain.

**5:27pm Piper's Books**

Apparently, I look so pathetically depressed that Piper felt the need to drop me off a Venti Americano with extra cream. Did I mention how much I _love_ that freckly red-head? Sigh.

So, I headed out on the 101 with the intention of a nice, relaxing drive. Had my headphones on under my helmet (don't tell Charlie) and was doing my best to think of nothing but Lykke Li's _Until We Bleed. _(Wow. Now that I'm actually writing it down, I sound like a total _Emo_. If I start rolling out of bed with perfect hair we'll know it's gone too far.)

Anyway. Nice, relaxing and somewhat emo drive. Not a chance! The crime scene rapidly played on a loop in my mind …

The way my hand had slowly lifted with a life of it's own towards the loose, wavy strand at the back of his neck. I'd run my index finger over it first, marveling at it's softness before I'd pinched it between my thumb and forefinger, slowly twirling, twirling, twirling … His hair was surprisingly heavy, and I watched in utter fascination as I released it and it slowly twirled back to it's original position.

I must have blinked, because I've suddenly found myself locked in a glare that's making Edward's seem like glitter and rainbows and My Little Pony with sprinkles of sunshine. His anthracite eyes are wide and furious and full of a _disgusted_ disbelief. He looks more pained in this moment than I've ever seen him before, his jaw locked hard and I _swear_ I can hear his_ teeth_ grinding.

I'm too mortified to do anything but stare, and he inhales deeply before visibly swallowing and turning his back to me once more. No words pass between us- I must have been in some twisted state of shock and utter horror and awe. I didn't even notice when he left. Didn't realize I was the only one left in the room. I couldn't even tell you how I got to Biology, let alone what happened in class. I was just … lost.

There was no stop button. Just endless repeat. It plagued me over and over and over again. In fact, it's not until I realize how_ quickly the vehicle ahead of me is coming up_ that I snap out of it, the sounds of 30 Seconds To Mars' _The Kill_ registering far too loud through my headphones.

My heart leaps wildly at the ferocity of the wind biting through my clothing, adrenaline immediately kicking in when I dare to look at my speedometer. My racing brain has trouble processing the triple digits.

_Holy. Shit. _

I know from the basic classes I took at the Forks DMV that hitting the breaks in the rain won't end prettily, so my average human body uses adrenaline to bring my lagging synapses to life: the world slows as my mind grows sharper and I count a good five seconds before I smash into the back of that mud-covered, topless black Jeep.

I release the gas and swerve into the opposite lane, my right foot mere inches from clipping the bumper of the unsuspecting vehicle. I'm still pushing past them at almost twice their speed, but I have the compelling need to look and see _who's_ license plate I was almost splattered all over.

I shouldn't have.

It's only a mere _second_, but that's all I needed to take in his wet lips and dripping curls and the severely dark shadows around his wide, black eyes. My heart seizes and I open my mouth, gasping for air that I didn't realize I was denying myself. My bike presses on and past him and I'm struck with a heavy wave of shock and worry. (...why was I worried? Hmm... )

Anyway, I don't slow down, too unprepared for the inevitable face to face to stop and deal with it now. I take a turn-off and backtrack to my work, letting the adrenaline slowly work it's way out of my system.

You know… one way or another, that boy will be the death of me.

**7:12pm Piper's Books**

I wanna ride him like I ride my bike … which I guess would be at 106 miles per hour in the pouring rain.

**8:44pm Piper's Books**

Almost closing time! Yay. Note to self: Don't forget to borrow _The Merchant of Venice_ from Piper.

**10:16pm My Room**

Annnddd…I forgot.

Bella's Big Weekend Plans:

1. Run by work and grab _The Merchant of Venice_

2. Read _The Merchant of Venice_

3. Hit the grocery store

4. Make and freeze some dinners for Charlie

5. Laundry

6. Clean Room

7. Long motorcycle drive?

8. …Watch a movie?

9. … … Deal with my Epic Fuck-Up


	5. Day 5

**September 11th Saturday**

* * *

**3:28am My Room**

Please...stay out of my dreams. You excel at breaking my heart.

**9:28am Kitchen**

Yay for sleeping in! Yay for Saturday!

**10:46am In the Police Cruiser**

Yay for LaPush? How the hell did I get talked into this anyways? Oh yeah. _Blackmail. _Poo-poo on Charlie's 'eyes' that are apparently gifted with PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY and SO OBSERVANT that they could tell it was _me_ pushing 106MPH on the 101.

"I should write you a ticket." He grumbles and casts me a sideways look, "Or maybe just ground you for life."

_Ground me from what? I don't go anywhere._

"From your bike, Speedy." He happily explains, holding out his hand.

_This blows._ I hand over the keys anyway.

"No," He growls, snatching them from my grasp. "What would _'blow'_ would be you ending up a _smear_ on someone's _windshield_."

_You mean bumper._ I correct and immediately catch my mistake.

"Grounded for life!" He sings loudly, a few curse words slipping here and there. Me and my big … hands.

**4:25pm My Room**

LaPush kids are weird.

I go to hang out with Charlie while he and Billy catch up (and _seriously_, how much can two middle-aged men have to catch up on since _last weekend?_) and he ends up _ditching me_ to go _fishing_. So. There I was, chilling in the Black's living room watching TV, when _who_ comes barreling in through the front door with all the grace of a _bulldozer_, but good ol' Jacob 'I-used-to-make-mudpies-with-you' Black.

I freeze with a Dorito halfway to my open mouth and my brain goes … MUBLEHHHHWAAHBLHUH? =That is the sound of a brain melting.

BECAUSE little Jacob Black- tiny, scrawny JACOBIjustsawyoutwomonthsagowhatthehellBLACK … has a fucking _six pack_ and _rippling cords of muscles_ and_ no shirt_ and I don't know _what the fuck to say to him_, so I just sit there dumbly with that Dorito on a mission to nowhere.

He finally laughs, breaking the mind-fuck he's put me in and says, "Hey, Bells."

_Steroids!_ Is the first thing I manage.

I'm answered not only by his laughter, but a chorus of chatter as five more half-naked, golden-skinned bodies shove their way into the extremely tiny living room. "Jake! Where's the food?!"

Apparently I'm a conversation killer because the whole living room chose that moment to go silent. My mind is working out that Jake must now be part of a gang … a steroid-popping, tanning booth frequenting, short-haired only, let's-all-get-matching-tattoos kinda gang. Oh, and you can only wear cut-offs. Annnddd... you can only wear them_ commandooooooohmyword_.

"I'm up here, babe." My eyes can't get any wider but I obediently drag my gaze up and away from the well-defined muscles that are surrounding … _whoever's_ belly button. By the time I finally reach his rugged yet perfectly balanced face, the fucker's thoroughly amused and giving me this panty-dropping smirk, "Took you long enough."

I shrug and hold out the bag of Doritos, which he promptly snatches from my grasp. The two smaller boys tackle him and Jake yells for everyone to get out. The brawl spills into the front yard and I follow Jake out to the porch where introductions are made.

"This is Sam," He says, starting with the oldest and biggest of them, counting down to the smallest. "The cocky man whore is Paul, and that's Quil, Embry, and Seth."

"Hey! _She_ was checking _me_ out," Paul shouted around a mouthful of Doritos, spraying Embry with stray pieces. "_Jacob!_ I turned your girl into a pervert!"

Jacob growls a bit (like a _dog_ or some shit) and charges, sending Paul tearing off into the woods with Jake hot on his heels. Sam offers some quiet apologies and I shrug them off, licking powdered cheese from my finger tips.

"Hey!" The smallest one, Seth, calls and I turn to find him picking scattered chips out of the wet grass with Quil. "You're Bella Swan, right?"

I nod, and he stands, strolling towards me and starts speaking around a mouthful of soggy chips. "My sister, Leah, goes to school with you."

I try not to betray anything I've witnessed, but it's like he already knows, his young eyes hardening and looking away while I nod my confirmation.

He swallows thickly, what I'm hoping was just soggy Doritos, before he looks at me again and holds out his hand. "Good to finally meet you."

It's an odd gesture coming from someone so much (well, like three years) younger than me, but I clasp his hand and then _flinch_ at how _hot _he is. I yank my hand from his grasp and ask, _Are you alright?_

He's confused and replies, "I'm fine."

I shake my head._ You're burning up! I have some Tylenol in my bag-_

"He's fine." I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder and a searing heat seeping into my skin through my hoodie. I turn to see Sam frowning into the trees, his eyes weighted..._guarded_. "Sorry Bella, we gotta run. I'll send Jake back in a little while."

Without further explanation, Sam takes off from the porch with Seth, Quil and Embry silently falling in behind him. I watch them disappear into the woods.

Jake never comes back.

LaPush kids are weird.

_Hot._

But weird.

**10:11pm Living Room**

Bella's Big Weekend Plans:

1. Run by work and grab _The Merchant of Venice_

2 Read _The Merchant of Venice_

3 Hit the grocery store

4. Make and freeze some dinners for Charlie

**X** Laundry

**X** Clean Room

**X** Long motorcycle drive? GROUNDED

**X** …Watch a movie? BORING

9. … … Deal with my Epic Fuck-Up


	6. Day 6

**September 12****th**** Sunday**

* * *

**9:27am Bathroom**

Paul Lahote is in my bedroom.

Do you have _any idea_ of how _creepy_ it is to wake up with Paul Lahote's face two inches from yours, telling you your room stinks?! WTF?! Thank_ God_ I decided to wear sweats to bed- what if I'd been in my underwear?!

…At least he's wearing a shirt this time. Sorta. It's a white wife-beater but I think it'll be enough to keep myself from ogling too much. Why the hell did Charlie let him in anyway? And better yet-

Why _the fuck_ is _Paul Lahote_ in my _bedroom_?!

Paul Lahote -1 / Charlie -1

**10:47am Living Room**

Paul Lahote is here to be my chauffeur for the day. Apparently word of my doing the 101 106 got out (Charlie told Billy, who told Jake, who for some _stupid_ reason told all of his Roid Gang) and Sam told Charlie he would send someone over to see if I needed to get anywhere today.

This still doesn't explain why_ Paul Lahote_ volunteered for the job.

Or why he's opened every goddamn window in my house! For the love of- IT'S _RAINING! _MY HOUSE DOESN'T STINK!

Paul Lahote -2 / Charlie -2 / Jake -7464532

**11:52am Piper's Books**

Paul Lahote drives a motorcycle.

I'm guessing Charlie didn't foresee this.

Piper keeps giving me these loaded looks... I'm obligated to answer her every question in order to keep my good name unsullied by Paul Lahote's 'Man Whore' reputation.

_No, Piper. I'm not dating Paul Lahote. I would never date Paul Lahote. How do I know him? He's my not-so-much-a-friend-as-he-is-a-brother's … gang buddy_. _No, Piper, I don't think he has a gun. No, I'm not gonna ask. Don't bother to try and sell him anything- he probably never learned to read._

On a more random note: holding onto him for dear life whilst flying down the highway is somewhat … _exhilarating. _But only cause I've never had my arms around a boy quite like _that_ before.

Paul Lahote -1 / Charlie -3

**12:19pm Finn's General Grocery**

How we will _ever_ manage to get the groceries back to the house is beyond me. He insists he has a 'plan'. I'm mentally preparing for the epic fail that's right around the corner.

…

Paul Lahote's Plan: "...Um, we're gonna _carry_ them? Duh, Swan."

Epic. Fail.

Paul Lahote -2

**1:19pm Kitchen**

Paul Lahote is going to eat all of my groceries!

Holy hell! Where is it all _going?!_ He's inhaled every last bit of leftovers and pounded two quarts of Kool Aid! He is currently (NO JOKE) _halfway_ through an ENTIRE LOAF OF BREAD!

I'm too terrified to invite him for dinner- he'll run off with my goddamn refrigerator! DOES NO ONE FEED PAUL LAHOTE?!

Paul Lahote -1

**3:02pm Kitchen**

Paul Lahote likes my cooking.

Paul Lahote +2

**5:11pm Kitchen**

Paul Lahote doesn't know ASL from WWF.

…Yet he still get's my point every time.

Paul Lahote +5

**5:55pm My Room**

Paul Lahote will not take 'No' for an answer.

So I guess he's driving me to school tomorrow. Lord help us all. I reminded him at least twenty-two times that punctuality is important to me (at least where school is concerned), and if he makes me late I will skin him and wear his face like a mask.

He said it'd be an improvement over the baggy hoodies, flat hair and turtle-necks.

Fuck you, Paul Lahote.

Paul Lahote +4

**7:24pm My Room**

Bella's Big Weekend Plans:

**X** Run by work and grab _The Merchant of Venice_

**X **Read _The Merchant of Venice_

**X **Hit the grocery store

**X **Make and freeze some dinners for Charlie

**X **Laundry

**X **Clean Room

**X **Long motorcycle drive? GROUNDED

**X **…Watch a movie? BORING

9. … Deal with my Epic Fuck-Up

**9:19pm Backyard**

I'd hoped a little fresh air and the feel of some grass between my toes would help birth some totally wicked plan that would include either A) A Time Machine or B) Transferring Schools or C) Identity Theft and Facial Reconstructive Surgery.

So far, no dice.

**11:44pm My Room**

I'm going to have to apologize, aren't I?

Sigh.

Okay, so chances are he told Alice what happened and she'll either A) Unleash the Fun-Sized Fists of Doom in the Parking Lot or B) Glare at me all day or C) Confront me face to face and demand an explanation. If she doesn't execute Plan A, I'll apologize to her in English.

As for _him_... hell. Maybe I'll apologize to Alice and then go kill myself or something.


End file.
